


The Parliaments of Women

by ophymirage



Category: Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell - Clarke
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2009-12-21
Updated: 2009-12-21
Packaged: 2017-10-04 22:41:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/34879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ophymirage/pseuds/ophymirage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Mr. Redruth begs the society's pardon, but he is not a magician at all... It is his daughter who is the magician. He has one son and three daughters and he says that they are all magicians. The others...[prefer] to pursue their studies privately at home without distractions."</p><p>"Miss Redruth, the young lady in the red velvet gown, was one of the first to speak. Her voice was low and rather hurried. She was not used to speaking in public and not all of the magicians caught her words, but her delivery was very passionate... Magic would be freed from the shackles that Gilbert Norrell had placed upon it!"</p><p>"From the Duke of Roxburghe's library: 'The Parliament of Women' was an allegorical sixteenth-century description of the wisdom and magic that belongs particularly to women."</p><p>If men are engaged in the newly fashionable practice of English Magic, what place for women?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Parliaments of Women

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Bow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bow/gifts).



> To my Yuletide requester: you have given me one of the best gifts an old English major could ask for - the chance to write in not one, but two, of her favorite literary styles. I hope that this work will give you, dear reader, in its perusal, as much pleasure as it is giving me to produce it.
> 
> I hope, that as one who appreciates novels in the Regency style, you will also be patient with this story's serialization; the tale grows in its telling, but I _promise_ you, will work through to completion.
> 
> To my beta: as always, I am the luckiest writer of all to have your fine eye and keen ear close to hand. (and wasn't that a dreadful phrase?) thank you for your hard work, again and over again.

 

_Correspondence of Miss Caroline Redruth to Miss Flora Greysteel_

_Heartsall Manor, Wiltshire_

_1st September, 1817_

 

My dear Miss Greysteel:

I hope you will forgive my daring in corresponding with you, unintroduced, but I write to you on a matter of, I hope, mutual interest. You will doubtless have heard, among your circle of acquaintances, of the reconvening of the Learned Society of Yorkshire Magicians by Mr. John Childermass (who worked so lately for Mr. Gilbert Norrell), and his companion Vinculus, former street sorceror, now famous primarily for his skin rather than his magical accomplishments. You will also doubtless have heard of the great debate between the Strangites and Norrellites, which grew in ferocity and intellectual fervor until the bonds of fellowship could no longer constrain it, and its subsequent sundering into factions that this time, I fear, will not be resolved except by the return of either His Grace the King or the Two Magicians of England.

 

I confess myself to be an ardent supporter of the Strangite faction, particularly after some discussions with the highly learned Dr. Foxcastle; and yet, I cannot bring myself to be entirely even of their party, for many of the Strangites, magicians all, even while firmly espousing the return of English Magic for all to practice, seem convinced that ‘all’ means merely ‘all English men,’ and English women are not to partake of its glorious revival.

 

My two sisters and I have become convinced from our readings and researches that in the days of the Aureate and Argentine magicians, women practiced magic equally with men; however,direct accounts of such practices seem to be vanishingly few. Indirect references are written with scorn, except for a very few; Dr. Pale’s claims to have learnt from Catherine of Winchester, and the great value of her teachings to him (though he says very little of WHAT he was taught), and his subsequent taking of Francis Pevensey as a pupil, being the largest portion of these.

 

Miss Greysteel, let me not try your patience further, but come to the material point: we are limited in resources for research; while Yorkshire has always been more blessed than many parts of England with both magicians and books of magic, it is still true that Mr. Norrell’s prior occupation of book-collector, and his subsequent departure with Mr. Strange, has left the country much bereft of magical treasures.

 

We have understood that Mrs. Arabella Strange counts you among her closest acquaintance; I am writing to beg you, therefore, for an introduction to her; my hope is that she may be able to contact her husband, who did so great a work in releasing English Magic to all Englishmen, that we may study the works of Englishwomen as well. My further hope is that you yourself, being both a friend of magicians and a student of their works, may be convinced to share in our researches, and lend your voice to create a chorus of female magicians, to balance the works of men.

 

I have now laid all my ambitions at your feet, and hope that one or more may be looked upon graciously by you. I shall await your reply with breathless anticipation.

 

Respectfully, Caroline Redruth

_The Rectory, Upper Poppleton _

_Yorkshire_

 

***

 

_Letter from Mr. John Segundus to Miss Flora Greysteel_

_Heartsall Manor, Wiltshire_

_5th September, 1817_

 

Dear Miss Greysteel,

 

I received your letter of 3rd September with some interest, as, after the remarkable events of last February, I was not sure that I should hear from you or Mrs. Strange so soon; perhaps, indeed, not at all. Thank you for your kind enquiry as to the school: I must say with some candor that keeping an academy for students of English Magic is more enjoyable than acting as the keeper of a madhouse, however polite and gentle its occupant; you will perhaps be surprised to learn, however, that many of the difficulties encountered are the same!

 

… As to your present concerns regarding Miss Redruth’s correspondence, I can say with certainty the following: she is devoted to the cause of English Magic, without a doubt, and confirmed in her belief that Jonathan Strange is the hero, and Norrell the villain, of last year’s melodrama. Though my own abilities have only modestly increased, I can tell you also that I believe her to be quite powerful; though nothing (yet) to rival our two greatest magicians. Were she a man, she might be regarded as a worthy student for Strange - alas, as she is not, the Society to which she has been nominally admitted regards her as a curiosity to be studied, rather than a colleague in study.

 

Being a lady of naturally high spirits, she has felt somewhat oppressed by this attitude; there have been a number of debates in which she has participated with great fervor…. The last disagreement with Dr. Foxcastle resulted in suspension of her membership in the Society for the period of thirty days while those great men decide what place women ought have in their world. Having had my own encounters with that learned gentleman, I fear that her prospects for further study may be limited by fiat, for which I feel some sympathy. I would myself admit her at Starecross Hall, but confess I have no more idea what to do with her abilities than any other Theoretical Magician.

 

…I can tell you nothing else, except what all York society knows: that she comes of a good and upright family; father a parson, mother deceased, three sisters and a brother in the house, all reputed to have developed magical abilities in the Great Upwelling of last March.

 

…Let me close by inquiring after Mrs. Strange’s health; is she now fully recovered of her good cheer, from those dreadful events?

 

In service,

_John Segundus_

_Starecross Hall Academy_

_Starecross, Yorkshire_

 

***

 

_Miss Caroline Redruth_

_The Rectory, Upper Poppleton _

_Yorkshire_

_8th September, 1817_

 

My dear Miss Redruth:

 

I hope that you will excuse my dilatoriness in replying to you; I confess that I had not quite known what to make of your rather remarkable letter. Upon its receipt, I corresponded with a gentleman of my acquaintance, Mr. John Segundus of York, who is currently engaged in writing a biographical memoir of Mr. Strange, requesting to be familiarised with the debates you mentioned in your letter.

 

I hope that you will not mind my having done so; it was to satisfy my own great curiosity, as well as to ascertain that my dear Arabella - well, be assured that there are several correspondents who have attempted to play upon her great good nature and patience, for purposes that were less than wholesome. Please believe I did not believe your letter to be such, but wished to confirm my own impressions before conferring further with Mrs. Strange.

 

Mr. Segundus was very kind in providing me a further narrative regarding the Learned Society of Yorkshire Magicians, and the philosophical schism that has been plaguing its meetings for the last several months.  I must say that his relations have been both entertaining and slightly alarming - did you really respond to Dr. Foxcastle’s assertion that “women are unfit by natural temperament to undergo the rigorous studies required for English Magic” by upending a pitcher of ale over his head?

 

Yours in curiosity,

_Flora Greysteel_

_Heartsall Manor, Wiltshire_

 

***

_Miss Flora Greysteel_

_10th September, 1817_

 

My dear Miss Greysteel,

 

I must confess, with shamefaced blushes, that I did in fact attempt to end the discussion with a rather unorthodox demonstration of one woman’s abilities and temperament for magic. In my own defense, I can only say that the provocations had been quite strong, and Dr. Foxcastle’s merely the latest in a long line.

 

It is this motivation that inspired me to take pen, book, and mirror in hand, to enquire what might be the most profitable areas for research in the subject of the magic of English women. My sister Louisa, who, it must be owned, is too dreamy for Dr. Foxcastle’s “rigorous approach,” is nevertheless greatly skilled in divination, and she it was who fixed upon you as our best hope - ‘reflected through two mirrors into that darkness which brings most light.’

 

I beg you will please not let my unfortunate display of temper color your kind thoughts towards me, who am ordinarily the most patient of ladies.  I hope that my own honesty in admitting my fault will convince you of the same.

 

Yours in anxious sincerity,

_Caroline Redruth_

 

***

 

_Miss Caroline Redruth_

_12th September, 1817_

My dear Caroline,

 

Pray set your heart at rest; the incident, so far from disturbing mine or dear Arabella’s equanimity, has provoked much laughter! (At the Norrellites ‘ expense - do not make yourself uneasy on that account.) Mr. John Childermass has expressed to Mrs. Strange his own frustrations on the subject, and that has in addition colored our opinion, as one might well expect.

 

She confesses herself curious regarding your projected research and is somewhat at sea as to how she should assist,  but is nevertheless willing to meet with you and attempt to understand further. If you would be willing to make the long journey from Yorkshire, we can certainly provide accommodations for you for an extended stay. Does either of your sisters wish to come in addition?

 

Your friend,

_Flora Greysteel_

 

***

 

_Miss Flora Greysteel_

_15th September 1817_

My dear Flora,

 

I have applied to Papa for permission, and though he is reluctant to send me so far from home, to a house he knows so little, unescorted, he has agreed for the furtherance of our studies that I may be gone for two weeks together. Will this suit? My sisters send their heartfelt thanks, but Louisa has determined that it is for me to go, as she is finding the early chill affecting her cough more; and Belle is pleading her Latin and French studies. (In truth, I feel that her interest lies more in her tutor!, but that is for Papa to determine.)

 

I shall acquaint you with my arrangements for the journey forthwith, but expect to be with you on the first of October at latest. Accept once more, one thousand times more, my most grateful thanks for all your bestowed kindness.

 

Your friend,

_Caroline Redruth_

_   
_

***

A light afternoon rain had begun to fall, and the sun which had earlier fired the leaves to brilliance was now watery and wan, as the four-wheeled coach and pair pulled up to the front steps of Heartsall Manor. A bonneted head had been leaning out the windows for the last half-hour or more, disregarding the rain in favor of the view - rolling country, well wooded, chalky hills and green vales - and to all appearances, well pleased with what it saw.

 

The Manor was a fair prospect to look upon: small iron-and-stone gates flanked a short drive leading up to the main house. The house itself was set in front and to one side of a prettyish little wood: a rambling stone and red-brick structure, Elizabethan in affect, on which the flat Georgian fashions of the last century had made no impression. Defying the watery clouds and the autumnal chill, warm lamplight shone out of the windows, and the overall aspect was one of quaint cheerfulness and invitation.

 

The coachman leapt down from his perch, lowered the latched stairs, and opened the door to assist his young traveler out. Miss Redruth, for it was indeed she, unfolded and eased her tall frame out of the coach, stretching subtly as her two trunks were unloaded. The first, large and light, presented the coachman with no difficulties, but the weight of the second seemed to surprise him, as he overbalanced and nearly dropped it. Caroline darted forward in alarm.

 

“Have a care, please! In fact, let me have charge of it - ‘tis precious and should not be mishandled.” The contents rattled inside, as she attempted to tug it out of the servant’s hands.  He was resisting her pulling, clearly surprised and a little angry, when the door of the house opened and  silhouetted two figures.

 

“John!” cried the taller of the two, a younger lady, rushing forward. The coachman startled and let go of the trunk, no doubt hoping to appear innocent to his mistress: it caught Miss Redruth by surprise, who lost her footing and sat down hard in the mud, but managed to keep her box aloft and out of it.

 

“Oh, my dear! Are you all right? And your box? John, for shame! Let me help you. Are these your books? My dear, I’m so sorry, he’s new to service, please come in, of course you can carry your own things.” She started to offer Caroline her hand, realized that both of the other girl’s were occupied, reached down and grasped her arm and pulled strongly up, till Miss Redruth got her feet under her. Caroline stood for a moment, ascertained that nothing more than her dignity had been injured, and smiled reassuringly at her helper.

 

“Let’s get you out of the rain, and properly taken care of,” smiled the other young woman, drawing the pretty shawl that had been looped over her arms, up over her now-damp blond curls, and turning suddenly for the front door with a theatrical shiver. “We’ve a good fire in the parlor - I expect you’ll be well ready to dry and warm yourself,” she added kindly.

***

Miss Greysteel,_ Portrait in Oils by Cosway_, is quite pretty; possessed of a slender frame with limbs that had been compared favorably, by some of the more poetical London bachelors, to willow branches; blond curls, grey eyes, and a rosebud mouth; all these are easily described in a moment’s glance. Her personality, however, impresses one more forcefully: intelligence sparks behind the grey pools; and she possesses altogether an air of cool competence, one not easily fazed by the extraordinary.

 

Caroline Redruth, _sketch by F. G. in pencils_:  a tall young woman, removal of whose soaked bonnet and pelisse displays hair of a glossy black, darker complexion than is fashionable, regular features - ordinary,  except for the great dark eyes, which are her chief beauty. They seem luminous, so that the viewer ceases to see the face around them, enraptured instead by the wisdom of her expression. Her dress, though travel-stained, is of a fine red linen, which sets off her features to good effect.

***

Miss Greysteel’s kind smile had charmed Caroline no less than her ready willingness to assist. It seemed less remarkable now that (as Yorkshire gossip had whispered) Jonathan Strange had possibly made her the object of his affections during his sojourn in Venice.

 

Flora drew her into the parlor and invited her to warm her chilled self at the cheerfully blazing fire. “Miss Redruth, it is a great pleasure to meet you at last. Are you weary, will you take refreshment? Or would you prefer to see your room first, and have a moment to rest?”

 

Caroline smiled in return. “Miss Greysteel, you are all kindness. I feel a bit wearied, I must confess, and concerned for the disposition of my books and things.”

 

Mr. Greysteel, who had withdrawn for a moment into another part of the house, came back out at that, and said, “I have had John carry your things upstairs, and took the smaller trunk myself; but you of course are welcome to ascertain that all is well, and arrange anything to your liking. We desire you to be entirely comfortable and at your ease while you stay with us!”

 

Caroline curtseyed solemnly in return, then followed Flora up the large stairs to a pretty room, overlooking the woods in back of the manor. A great oak tree spread its branches not far from the window, and even in the watery chill, its leaves blazed with their last fiery passion. Caroline went over to the window, laying her fingers against the chill of the glass. She said almost reverently, “_The oak watched the distant hills/ The rain washed away sorrow.” _

 

Flora looked questioningly at her.

 

“His Grace the King,” Caroline said, laying a peculiar stress on the syllables. “The Raven King made bargains with the trees of England. He told us, Oaks are watchers and guardians, and will lend aid if the cause is just.”

 

“I suppose we must believe it all again, mustn’t we,” Flora said slowly, consideringly. “Now that Mr. Strange has unleashed it on us all. But I wonder, sometimes, whether he knows truly what he has unleashed.”


End file.
